


The One With the Vegas Vacation

by DreamsinPink



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Drinking Games, F/M, Humor, Las Vegas, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7742026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsinPink/pseuds/DreamsinPink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usagi finds herself in familiar company while visiting Las Vegas. Find out what happens when drinking, gambling, and far too much sexual tension mix together. No senshi and no monsters. Just some good 'ol Vegas fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night Before

**Author's Note:**

> A few months ago, I asked on Tumblr (she-dreams-in-pink) to be sent some quote prompts from a list. What was supposed to be a drabble / flash fic has turned into something quite a bit longer. This is the first part, and the second will be up within the week. I hope you enjoy it! I'll include what the prompt was at the end of the second chapter. Thanks to AntiGone2 and IrritableVowel for the helpful ideas! :)
> 
> Edit: After being up for weeks, I came to the conclusion that the name wasn't exactly what I was looking for. As I constantly watch Friends on repeat, I've decided to title all prompt fics "The one with/where...".

            Usagi curled the tips of her toes under the stool’s metal footrest as she hunched over a fruity cocktail. Mirrored tiles reflected the warmth cast down from the chandelier, and she watched as an array of colourful lights danced in a pattern along the wall. Bottles upon bottles lined a wooden cabinet, a classic nod to the past. People laughed behind her, huddled around stout tables as they enjoyed their drinks, soaking up each other’s company. She sighed as her fingers drummed against the counter, seemingly of their own accord; this vacation definitely had not panned out as expected.

            She glanced over at a group of girls who whispered and giggled, recounting stories of crushes and conquests. She had been one of those girls a few hours ago, surrounded by four of her closest friends. At the time, they were trying to console her, despite fervent protests that she was fine. Usagi groaned to herself, blowing bubbles through the tiny straw, and watching as they pushed their way past the ice.

She had expected to be ditched by Minako, who over the course of a ten minute conversation had fallen hopelessly in love with an American wannabe-model. She had then enlisted Makoto for a double date, needing someone to entertain the model’s best friend. Her other two friends, Ami and Rei, had decided to hit the casino floor and test their luck as Ami had spent the last month studying the mechanics behind every casino game possible. They had asked Usagi to join them, begged her even, yet she politely declined, already feeling a heavy strain on her finances (or lack thereof).

            “Stupid medical conference,” she muttered, scowling into the empty glass. That was the only reason _he_ was there; not that it was really a surprise. And it certainly wasn’t a surprise that he wanted to spend time with _some girl_ he had met God-knows-where before making the long journey back to Japan. He hadn’t even noticed Usagi – not that it mattered. She was completely over trying to figure out the ridiculous and complicated relationship she had with —

            “Odango?

            — Mamoru. Her shoulders tensed at the sound of his voice, and she inhaled slowly, refusing to turn around. She stared down at the melting cubes, stabbing the remains with her straw, half pretending it was the man behind her.

            “What are you doing here?” he asked, moving to occupy the empty stool beside her.

            “What does it look like I'm doing?” she snapped, nose filling with the scent of his cologne; she loved that smell. He rolled his eyes, and ordered a drink from the bartender.

            “I guess Minako convinced everyone to join Ami after the conference?” he surmised, already well aware of the answer; Ami had been bubbling with excitement during their last lecture. “Where is everyone?” he wondered, gaze scanning the room before settling on the plunging neckline of her black dress from the corner of his eye.

            “Gambling.” She watched with mute interest as Mamoru slid a bill across the counter to pay. “Or dating.” She frowned. He nodded as he took a sip of his drink, and Usagi played out a million conversations in her mind. “So, what are you drinking?” she asked.

            “Bourbon.” He offered her the glass, and the blonde shook her head, tendrils of golden hair falling in front of her face. “Let me guess, you had something extremely sweet where you couldn’t even taste the alcohol?”

            “It tasted like strawberries,” she replied matter-of-factly, feeling a light blush stain her cheeks when he flashed her his infamous cocky smile.

            “So, why aren’t you gambling or dating?” He signalled to the bartender to bring her another drink.

            “I don’t really have the funds to be gambling right now,” she admitted, gaze dropping to the ring she was twisting around her finger. “And my lack of luck on the dating scene is no secret, not even to you.” Mamoru felt a pang of guilt, silently confessing that a good portion of her _bad dating luck_ was caused by him.

            A familiar silence fell over the pair as they battled internal emotions, playing a game of stolen glances. Usagi found her coy glimpses growing longer, and she studied his strong hands and chiselled jaw. Her fingers itched to push away the silky hair strewn messily across his brow, and she couldn’t help but wonder what his lips would feel against hers. Her cheeks burned – clearly this was all the alcohol talking.

            “I really wanted this to be a movie vacation,” she grumbled, blowing the bangs from her forehead as she swivelled her stool back and forth.

            “A movie vacation?” Mamoru echoed, refusing to move despite her leg repeatedly brushing up against his.

            “You know, like what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” she explained, lifting her straw and downing the rest of the bright pink liquid.

            “And what would that entail?”

            “I don’t know.” Usagi shrugged. “Getting drunk, doing something crazy, hooking up with some hot guy?” Her wistful smile soured as she caught his disapproving frown. “What?”

            “I didn’t realize you were that kind of girl,” he said, the curtness of his voice causing Usagi to tense.

            “How would you even know what kind of girl I am?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You still see me as the same girl I was ten years ago when we first met.” Her cheek twitched, and jaw clenched. “I don’t even wear _odangos_ all the time anymore,” she added, pointing to the waves of gold that fell down to the middle of her back.

            Mamoru remained silent, watching as she struggled to keep the irritation from contorting her face. He sighed; they always seemed to end up in the same place. While falling back into old habits was comfortable, part of him ached to move forward.

            “You're right,” he conceded, nodding slightly.

            “What?” Usagi’s defenses dropped, her annoyance quickly dissipating.

            “I said, you’re right.”

            “Did the great Mamoru Chiba just admit that I, Usagi Tsukino, was right about something?” She gaped, hand splayed dramatically across her chest.

            “Cherish the moment,” he replied dryly. “I know you better than you think I do.”

            “Prove it,” she challenged, eyes sparkling.

            “Prove it?”

            “We’ll play a game.” A grin swept her face, and she straightened her back.

            “What game?” His expression narrowed; what exactly was he getting himself into?

            “You have to agree to play first.”

            “Fine,” he agreed, shoulders shrugging. She looked at him expectantly, brows raised and lips pressed into a line. “I’ll play.”

            “Order six shots,” she instructed. “It's part of the game,” she explained when she noticed his hesitation. Mamoru did as he was told; maybe there _was_ a side to Usagi he had yet to see.  “We take turns saying something that we think is true about the other person. If you're wrong, you take a shot. First person who finishes their shots loses.”

            “Okay.” His face softened with curiosity. “Are you sure you can handle three shots?” he prodded, enjoying the confident simper that pulled at her lips.

            “I won't need to.” Usagi declared, and Mamoru chuckled at her blatant cockiness. “You start,” she ordered, lining three small glasses in front of each of them.

            “Your favourite milkshake is strawberry.”

            “It is, but that was too easy,” she chided, wagging her finger. She looked at him square on, ready to show him exactly how the game was played. “You want people to think your favourite flavour is coffee, but it's actually chocolate.” She lifted her chin triumphantly, and Mamoru leaned back – so that was how she wanted to do it.

            “You _actually passed_ your third-year psychology exam on the first try.”

            “Hey, I did better than _just pass_ ,” she exclaimed, swatting him on the arm.

            “I know.” He nodded, unwilling to confess that he had been proud of her. “Your turn.”

            Usagi hummed, and pursed her lips in thought, eyes sparkling as she came up with the perfect fact.  “You grow roses.”

            Mamoru’s head jerked back. “How did you even know that?” he wondered; that wasn’t a secret he readily shared.

            “I’m not outing my source.”

            “Motoki,” he muttered, shaking his head. “… who you had a huge crush on,” he added.

            “Well _you_ had a crush on Rei,” Usagi retaliated. Mamoru smirked, and pushed a shot glass towards her.

            “I have never been interested in Rei,” he said, laughing at the blonde’s dubious expression. Usagi downed the liquid, nose crinkling at the aftertaste. “Still feeling confident?” he goaded, causing her to roll her eyes.

            “Just go.”

            “You didn’t go on your first real date until you were eighteen.” She considered the statement, and nodded when she deemed it to be true; her father had been pretty overbearing when she was a teenager.

            “You’ve never had a long-term relationship,” she baited, hoping to ignite some sort of reaction in him, but was disappointed when all she received was a nonchalant shrug.

            “You’ve never had a one-night stand,” he countered.

            “Drink up, Chiba.”

            “I’m surprised, Odango.” Brows raised, he lifted the shot to his lips, wincing as it made its way down his throat; it was much stronger than he had anticipated. 

            “But I thought you knew me so well,” she mocked, batting her lashes. She wasn’t about to tell him that the _only_ one-night stand she had was a drunken, unsatisfying mistake. “You only date girls who are stupidly pretty.” Mamoru squinted – did Usagi seem _jealous_?

            "You only date guys that are jerks.”

            Usagi snorted. “I do not.” Mamoru’s forehead wrinkled in contention. “Whatever, I’ll give you that one just because I’m nice,” she scoffed, secretly trying to find a hidden meaning behind his remark. “You have never had a pet.”

            “That commercial with the kittens always makes you cry.”

            “It’s really cute and sad!” She pouted, pretending to be hurt.

            “I’m not making fun of you,” he said sincerely, and in honesty, he found it endearing.

            “You always wear Versace cologne.” Heat stained her cheeks as she remembered the rampant search she had dragged Minako on years ago, trying to figure out his scent.

            “You only ever paint your nails shades of pink.”

            “You notice that?” she asked, head tilting to the side. She blinked back the blurring lights, the alcohol finally beginning to take effect.

            “I notice a lot of things.” His voice lowered, and Usagi couldn’t help herself from leaning towards him.

            “What else do you notice?”

            “That’s not the game we’re playing,” he whispered. “Your turn.”

            “Fine.” She straightened her posture. “Sometimes you pretend to read the newspaper, but you’re really eavesdropping.”

            “Sometimes you speak extra loud to make sure I can hear exactly what you’re saying to your friends.” He smiled as she blushed with confirmation.

            “You had a date tonight.” Usagi held her breath, butterflies swarmed her stomach as he grinned, nodding towards the glass.

            “Drink.”

            “I saw you with her,” she accused, face growing tight.

            “Who, Sara? She’s a colleague,” he explained, relishing in the relief on Usagi’s face as she delicately picked up the shot. “Were you spying on me, Odango?” She threw back the shot, placing the glass upside down when she had finished.

            “You wish,” she muttered, fighting to maintain her composure.

            Attention focused on nothing but her, he propped his head up with his hand. “You secretly love the nickname _Odango_.”

            “Drink,” she ordered, unable to keep his infectious smile from spreading across her lips.

            “No way, it’s true.”

            “I do not love being called Odango,” she insisted, feeling her muscles loosen. He cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’re infuriating.” She moved the glass closer to him. “Drink it.”

            Mamoru did as he was told, yet continued to maintain that she was lying. “We’re down to one each,” he noted.

            Usagi's nose twitched, and she blinked in thought. Readying her reply, she uncrossed her legs and placed her arm on the counter – partially to steady herself. “You only pretend to find me annoying.” Her focus remained fixed on Mamoru; morning sky clashing with midnight.

            “You think I’m attractive.” He winked, and her face flushed.

            The blonde held up her thumb and index finger, and pinched them together. “Just like this much,” she said, refusing to give him any satisfaction. Mamoru chuckled, and Usagi fiddled with her hair in an attempt to regain her composure. She cleared her throat and licked her lips, and Mamoru couldn’t stop his attention from dropping to her mouth.  “You’re in Vegas, but you haven’t gambled any of your money.”  

            “You’ve already lost all yours,” he countered, being witness to years of money slipping through her fingers at the arcade.

            “I win!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms victoriously in the air, balance faltering. “I haven’t done any gambling at all.” She shook her head vehemently as if to prove her point. “I think, as punishment for losing, you should drink the last one,” she said, pointing to the glass.

            Teetering on the verge of responsible and reckless, Mamoru threw back the remaining shot. “Come on,” he ordered, staring down at the girl smiling wildly – something about Usagi made him jump out of the sidelines and act on impulse. He wanted her to experience everything. “How can you have a crazy Vegas vacation without gambling?” he asked, fighting the light-headedness.

            “I don’t even know how to play,” she stammered, words slurring, and heart racing.

            “Then be my good luck charm,” he said, gingerly resting his hand on the small of her back as he helped her slide off the stool. He threw a few bills down on the counter as a tip for the bar tender, and the pair made their way to the gaming floor, ready for their next adventure.

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

            Mamoru and Usagi stood in the entrance to casino, serenaded by a chorus of bells and shrill mechanical melodies. The clinking of coins and chips echoed throughout the vast room, dealers called out numbers and patrons shouted their bets. Little old ladies hunched over slots, cups in hand as they pounded on the buttons, waiting for their payout. Usagi breathed – it was magical.

            “So, where do we start?” Mamoru wondered, his arm secured tightly around Usagi’s waist. Her attention flitted left to right trying to choose, unable to decide whether it was Mamoru or the alcohol that was causing her body to tingle.

            A roar of cheers filtered through the floor, and Usagi’s head snapped in its direction. “What was that?”

            “It’s probably from the craps tables,” Mamoru guessed, flooded with disappointment as the girl slipped from his grasp. “Usagi –” he called after her.

            “Well come on.” She shot him an impatient glare, before grabbing his hand and pulling him with her in search of excitement.

            They weaved their way through rows of slot machines, and squeezed past crowds of people huddled around tables, fingers crossed and hopes high. After three wrong turns Mamoru took control of the directions, and they finally came to a craps table, buzzing with activity.

            Usagi tugged lightly on his shirt, and motioned for him to lean down. “Is this craps?” she whispered. Mamoru nodded. “Do you know how to play?” she asked. His head bobbed again, words caught in his throat as he struggled to suppress the overwhelming desire to kiss her.

            As they watched the game in progress, Mamoru explained the basics, pointing out the various wagers being made. Usagi tried to listen, but everything else was catching her attention: the curve of his mouth, and flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his hands moved as he taught her the basics, and how every part of his appearance was pressed and neat – every part except his hair, which fell perfectly and carelessly.

            “Do you want to try a few rounds?” he asked, breaking her reverie.

            “You play, I’ll watch,” she choked, knowing full well that no decisions she made here on out would be good ones.

            Mamoru traded money for chips, and they squeezed their way to the edge of the table. Numbers decorated the green, felt pit, and Usagi watched as the dice slid across the board. The dealer grabbed the black marker, and turned it to _on_ , placing it above the six.

            “Place bets on eight and nine,” Mamoru called, tossing the chips into the ring. “Hope it lands on nine,” he said, and Usagi crossed her fingers.

            Cheers erupted, and curses were muttered as the dice tumbled one after another. Waitresses stopped by to replenish drinks, and Usagi delighted in being able to use the shelf built into the craps table. After watching the first few rounds, Usagi began to understand the game, and was quickly swept up in the fanfare. She clung to Mamoru’s arm as they waited for the dice to fall, and celebrated each chip that they won.

            The dealer presented five dice to Mamoru, signalling it was his turn to shoot. He leaned down to whisper in Usagi’s ear. “Choose two dice,” he instructed, his proximity causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end.

            “That one, and that one,” she said, pointing to the red cubes. Mamoru scooped the dice into his hand, as the stickman pulled the others away. Taking a deep breath, he shook them in his palm, before releasing them onto the green below.

            “Point on twelve,” the dealer called, signalling the next round of bets. Four, five, six rolls went by and Mamoru’s turn was still going strong, with higher stakes piling in. The constant supply of drinks resulted in liquid courage taking control, and his wagers increasingly tested the odds. Usagi basked in the energy, drowning in the vibrant lights and encouraging calls. Suddenly she stood on her tip toes, and kissed Mamoru on the cheek.

            “What was that for?” he asked, voice hoarse as it pushed past the lump in his throat.

            “Luck.” She grinned, and the crowd whistled, Usagi’s complexion reddening with the attention.

            Two more shots of the dice, and Mamoru was up by nearly five hundred dollars – a fair amount of winnings for a man hesitant to gamble in the first place. Trusting his gut, he gathered his earnings, promptly rolling a seven on his next turn.

            “Seven out!” the dealer shouted, and the audience and players alike congratulated Mamoru on long, well-played streak.

            “Are you quitting?” Usagi wondered, eyes heavy and limbs languid.

            “We should call it a night.” Mamoru swallowed as the petite woman leaned against him. The sweet fragrance of her perfume invading his senses, mixing with the alcoholic buzz, and making it nearly impossible to think straight.

            “Nooo,” Usagi whined, turning to face him, her hand resting gently on his chest. “I don’t want to spend the rest of the night alone.” Her bottom lip fell into a pout. “We can watch a movie,” she suggested, brows raised as she looked up at him hopefully.

            “Movies are good,” Mamoru choked, heart pounding as he struggled to control his breath.

            Fighting drunkenness in silence, Usagi and Mamoru waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. The blonde swayed slightly from side to side, fingers fidgeting with the strap of her purse, and Mamoru tried his best to appear sober. The bell chimed, the doors slid open, and a rush of people shuffled past, ready to test their luck. The awkward pair climbed inside the now empty space, standing closer than necessary, but feeling too far away. The elevator jolted, and Usagi stumbled, unable to maintain her balance. Mamoru instinctively reached out and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against his chest. She turned in his grasp, his forehead lowering to hers.

            “Are you okay?” he asked, he hands planted firmly on her hips. Eyes locked and hearts pounded, time stopped as everything around them blurred into an array of shadows. “How drunk are you?” he whispered.

            Usagi shook her head, the mellowness of her expression replaced by sheer determination. “Don’t talk.” Reaching up, she tugged his head forward, mouths crashing together. Tongues explored, and fingers caressed, as years of pent up tension finally saw a hint of release. He pulled her closer, their bodies melding perfectly into one, drowning in the sensations of soft skin and thrumming lips. The elevator dinged, and the two jumped back, breathing ragged and appearances dishevelled.

  
            “We’re going to watch a movie,” Mamoru stammered, as an older couple stepped in, steely eyed and disapproving. Usagi refused to look anywhere but the ground, cheeks on fire, and unable to breathe through the thick tension. The second the doors opened at her floor, she flew into the corridor, legs shaky and mind reeling.

            “I’m down here.” She pointed down the hallway, and Mamoru followed dutifully behind. With neither drunk enough to pretend that the kiss had never happened, they painfully avoided the topic, their interactions now filled with awkward comments and nervous smiles.

            Usagi sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through the television guide, as Mamoru busied himself staring at the new release synopses on the hotel desk, unable to clearly make out the words. The blonde racked her brain for _something_ to say, but only came up with one conclusion: more alcohol was the only way to remedy their situation. Leaping from the bed, Usagi crouched before the mini-bar, pulling the contents into her arms.

            “Look at how cute these are,” she cooed, dumping the load of small bottles onto the bed. “We should try them.” She bit her lip, expecting him to decline.

            “Race to see who can finish one first?” he suggested, relieved for the distraction. Usagi nodded, and they chose their poisons, opening the bottles in preparation.

            “Ready,” Usagi said, elbow poised on her knee as she sat cross-legged on the bed.

            “Set.” Mamoru licked his lips, and shrugged his shoulders.

            “GO!” they shouted, bottles empty within mere seconds.

            Two rounds later the nervous energy had dissolved, leaving them warm, giddy and completely at ease with one another. Usagi tripped her way to the mini-bar, nose crinkling at the overpriced nuts, raisins, and banana chips.

            “We need snacks,” she declared, finger thrust into the air.

            “Vending machine?”

            A wide grin spread across the blonde’s face. “Best idea ever,” she cheered.

            The couple snuck barefooted down the hallway, shushing each other’s giggles with exaggerated gestures. They slowed their pace, and peered around the corner of a small alcove to find one vending machine standing proudly in the space.

            “It’s like heaven,” Usagi whimpered, nose pressed against the glass as she inspected the goodies in the machine. Using Mamoru’s credit card to make the payment, they began selecting items, watching with fascination as the silver ring spun to release their snacks.

            The last thing either of them remembered that night was pressing every button on the vending machine, and taking bets on what would come out first.


	2. The Morning After

           “Mamoru?” Usagi woke the next morning, mouth dry and head spinning. She eyed the man suspiciously as he paced in front of the window clad in nothing but an undershirt and his boxers. He paused every few steps to take a sip from the glass clutched in his hand. “Why are you in my room?” she asked, voice cracking.

            “I’m not.” He stopped to look her straight on. “You’re in mine.”

            Usagi shifted, clenching eyes shut in an attempt to push away the pain. “Why?” she groaned, brows furrowing in confusion.

            “I don’t know.” Mamoru sighed, and raking the bangs from his forehead. “Do you remember anything from last night?” 

            The corner of Usagi’s mouth twitched as she thought, and she tried to ignore her  pounding temples. She remembered meeting Mamoru in the bar, the sweetness of the cocktails, and bitterness of the shots. The bells and cheers from the gaming floor still echoed in her ears, and she faintly recalled gambling – or at least watching Mamoru gamble. Hazy memories of his warm body and soft lips surfaced, and she pressed her fingers to her lips, her head jerking back as an oversized sleeve slid down her wrist. Usagi looked down, and lifted the blanket, checking underneath to find herself drowning in one of Mamoru’s dress shirts; at least she still had underwear on. That was a good sign, right?

            “Why am I wearing your shirt?” She pointed to the garment, cheeks beginning to redden. “Did we –”

            “I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he added quickly, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I would remember that,” he added, averting his gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck.

            “We probably just came back here so that we didn’t disturb the girls,” Usagi suggested, choosing to ignore his comment as she smoothed down her messy hair.

            “Didn’t we go back to your room?”

            “Yeah.” Usagi’s head bobbed. “After we –” she paused, and bit her lip. “Played that game at the casino.”

            “Right,” Mamoru nodded, desperate to make sense of their situation. His pacing resumed, and Usagi sighed, fighting to stay awake as she fell into the array of fluffy pillows stacked behind her. She heard Mamoru stop, and curse under his breath.

            “Usagi,” he said, holding a white square in his hand as he grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and slid them up the bridge of his nose. “Don’t panic, but I think we may have accidentally gotten married.”

            “What?” She bolted upright, mouth agape, imploring him to continue. With a complete loss of words, Mamoru gave Usagi a small polaroid photo. She took it cautiously, almost afraid to look. “What?” she gasped, frantically inspecting the smiling faces staring back at her. “This can’t be real,” she stated, attention flitting between Mamoru’s blank expression and the picture.

            “It says _Just Married_.” He sat beside her on the edge of the bed, and pointed to the large banner that hung over their heads. “And we’re clearly in a chapel,” he said, motioning to the scenery.

            “Yeah, but –” Usagi’s breath hitched – was he actually trying to convince her it was real? And why on earth was he sitting so close?

           “You’re wearing a veil,” Mamoru noted.

           “If we got married, where’s my ring?” Usagi countered, holding out her hands and fanning her fingers, wanting nothing more than to prove it was all a joke.

           “We got drunk married in Vegas and you’re worried that I didn’t give you a ring?” he snapped.

            “Come on Mamoru, we would never –” Usagi felt the words go dry; up until last night, she also thought they would have never made out in an elevator.  “I mean, you’d never –” She tried to correct the statement, but the notion that he would have no interest her stung more than she cared to admit. “You don’t like me, remember?” she managed, feeling her headache return full force.

            “Usagi –” His face softened with her name, wishing he had the courage to dispel her doubts. Before any confession was spoken, it was chased away by a loud knock at the door. The pair exchanged a confused glance, and Mamoru rose to find who was on the other side.

            “Good morning my lovely _newlyweds_ ,” Minako sang, flouncing past Mamoru with two coffees in hand. “I can’t believe how drunk you two were last night,” she bubbled, grinning wildly as she handed them each a paper cup.

            “Newlyweds?” Usagi choked. “We actually got married?” Her jaw dropped, and the pounding in her head returned full force.

            “Who do you think was the maid of honour?” Minako asked, plopping down on the end of the bed, and subtly giving Mamoru an appreciative once over.

           “You _let_ us get married?” His voice deepened, and his expression tensed with anger.

           “It’s not like you’re _actually_ married,” Minako said, waving her hand. “Neither of you remember?” Receiving nothing but blank stares in reply, Minako kicked off her shoes, made herself comfortable, and began her story. “Well, last night…”

* * *

          Minako blew the bangs from her forehead as she stalked down the corridor towards her room, muttering a string of curses under her breath. It was just her luck that Makoto would end up with the good one, and she would be left alone, standing on the sidelines. She figured it was best to cut her losses and head in for the night, but there was no way that was happening without a healthy supply of junk food – just to get her past the momentary bout of depression and self-doubt.

            Rounding the corner she stopped mid-step, gasping at the enamoured couple that stood before her. She cleared her throat, but failed to get their attention.

            “Usagi!” Minako called, taking a step closer.

            “Minako!” the blonde squealed, untangling herself from Mamoru’s grasp. “Look!” She held out her hand, showing off a white, starchy ring, peppered with artificial, green onion flakes. “We’re engaged.”

            “You – you’re what?” she stammered, brows raised.

            “Engaged,” Mamoru repeated, drowning in giddiness.

            “Like getting married?”

            “Well duh,” Usagi said, rolling her eyes.

            “Wait.” Minako held up her palm. “You and you,” she said, finger flicking between the two, “want to get _married_?”

            “That’s why we’re engaged,” Mamoru explained, draping his arm around Usagi’s shoulders and pulling her closer towards him. Minako leaned forward, and inhaled.

            “Oh my god you guys are drunk.” She breathed a sigh of relief, and a wicked smile tugged at her lips.

            “We’re not drunk,” Mamoru insisted, words slurred and hand sluggishly waving back and forth.

            “We’re engaged,” Usagi reiterated, droopy-eyed and rosy cheeked.

            “You should get married,” Minako suggested. “I’ll be the maid of honour!” she volunteered, clasping her hands together in excitement – at least some fun would come out of the night.

            “Oh my god,” Usagi breathed, “that’s perfect.”

           “We should go right now,” Mamoru urged, arms shaking as Usagi’s head bobbed in agreement. Their eyes met, and without a second’s warning they were again enveloped in one another, bodies pressed and lips melding.

           “Okay you two.” Minako rolled her eyes, tugging gently on Usagi’s arm. “Save that for _after_ the wedding.”

            The ceremony took place in a tiny, white chapel, witnessed by a handful of strangers and accompanied by an off-key piano. Minako had walked a teetering Usagi down the aisle, after fixing the rented veil into her hair. She had filmed bits and pieces, unable to keep the grin off her face and instantly decided the wrath she faced in the morning would be worth the photos alone.

            Within fifteen minutes Usagi and Mamoru had exchanged vows and makeshift rings, and had shared their first kiss as husband and wife. A polite applause ushered them out, and they paused in the foyer to catch their breath, sides aching with laughter. Usagi gushed over her Fonion ring, words completely unintelligible, and Mamoru tried to steady himself against a plaster column. Minako sat beside her best friend, arms crossed in accomplishment as scenarios of the next morning played through her head.

* * *

          “And then I sent you two lovebirds up here to celebrate your wedding night,” Minako finished, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Usagi slid down, and pulled the covers up to her nose – there was no way this could be happening.  

            “Minako.” Mamoru exhaled slowly, mustering every last ounce of self-restraint that he had. “That wasn’t a fake wedding.”

            “Yeah, it was.” She snorted. “You don’t get married for real in Vegas.”

            “Yes, you do,” Mamoru insisted, forehead crinkled in exasperation.

            “No way,” she argued, jumping up from the bed and rummaging through a pile of papers on the desk. “Look, they even gave you this fake certificate,” she said, handing a piece of cardstock to Mamoru. “There’s no way that is real.”

            Mamoru briefly studied the certificate, his left fist clenching in anger as he drew in a breath. “Minako,” he seethed, lips pressed tightly together.

            “Let me see it,” Usagi demanded, arm outstretched and palm flat. “Oh my god,” she whimpered, squinting as her eyes examined the document line by line. “It says _right here_.” She pointed wildly to the scripted text.

            “It does not,” Minako maintained, shuffling over and peering down where Usagi’s manicured nail sat. She read over the paper, tripping her way through the legal jargon, corners of her lips pulling tight. “I’m sorry, I honestly had no idea,” she said, shoulders lifting as she shook her head.

            “I can’t believe you let this happen,” Mamoru barked.

            “I’m sorry!” Minako yelled, hands shaking emphatically. “But you’re the ones that got engaged,” she countered, folding her arms across her chest.

            “We were drunk!” Usagi exclaimed, the erratic beating of her heart echoing in her ears. “This can’t be happening,” she muttered, unable to push away the images of her mother crying and father exploding; they had missed their only daughter’s wedding.

           “We got engaged with a Fonion Ring,” Mamoru said, words slow and voice rumbling.

            “You got _married_ with a Fonion Ring,” Minako corrected, “and a twist-tie.” She pointed to the tied-up bag of leftover onion flavoured snacks on the desk. “I just thought that’s what Usagi wanted,” she added defensively.

            “You thought I wanted a snack food as my engagement ring?” Usagi cracked, wavering between laughter and tears.

            “Well…” Minako shrugged; it didn’t seem _that_ farfetched, did it? “Besides, it’s not like I thought you guys were _actually_ engaged,” she huffed, rolling her eyes for emphasis. “Or married.”

            As the reality of the situation settled, panic began to pool in Usagi’s stomach. Her thoughts were racing, and her palms grew slick with sweat. She glanced at Mamoru who had slumped into a chair, his knee bouncing furiously and face narrowed in thought.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, fingers toying with the pendant on her necklace as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

            “I’m sure we’re not the first people this has happened to,” Mamoru reasoned, “we’ll just go back to the chapel, and see if there’s anything they can do to help us.” His head bobbed slowly, trying to convince himself that everything would work out for the best.

            “Okay,” Usagi agreed, relaxing at Mamoru’s sudden calmness.

            “Go get changed,” he ordered, rising to his feet, ready to take control of the situation. “I’ll meet you at your room in ten minutes.” Usagi nodded, and threw back the covers.

            “You’re going _now_?” Minako cried, watching the pair rush around the room. Usagi grabbed a robe from the bathroom, throwing it over the dress shirt – it would have to do.

            “Yes, we’re going _now_ ,” Mamoru replied, rummaging through his suitcase for something suitable to wear. What _did_ you wear to get paperwork for an unwanted marriage back?  “You are not coming,” he stated pointedly, looking Minako directly in the eye.

            “But –”

            “No.”

            “Come on.” Usagi grabbed Minako’s hand, and pulled her towards the door. “My room in ten,” she said, earning a grunt of confirmation from Mamoru.

 

            Without a word uttered to her friends, Usagi changed her clothes and scrubbed the makeup from her face. She had begged Minako not to say a word, and mumbled an excuse as she flew out the door. Having a few minutes to spare, she leaned against the wall, foot tapping as she picked the polish from her nails.

            Despite the headache that plagued her, and the fact that she was a bride in a wedding she couldn’t’ remember, part of Usagi was still stuck on the idea that Mamoru hadn’t disagreed. He didn’t even seem to be angry at the fact that it was _her_ that he married. According to Minako, he had been enthusiastic about the entire idea, and while she refused to put any weight behind decisions made while drunk, that glimmer of hope that had arisen the night before resurfaced. Maybe there _was_ something between them.

            “Ready?” Mamoru asked, emerging from around the corner and breaking her train of thought.

            They walked in silence, neither knowing quite what to say, exchanging awkward smiles as they hurried past faceless strangers on the street. Usagi felt her phone vibrating in her purse; immediate proof that Minako had unleashed the story. At least it would be taken care of soon enough.

            “I guess this is it.” They stopped in front of a small building, the entrance shaped like a chapel, and decorated with tacky cherubs and a neon heart.

            “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone inside,” Usagi said, running up to peer into the darkened windows.

            “Shit,” Mamoru cursed, hand clenched around the handle trying in vain to jiggle the door open. His attention fell to a paper schedule pasted on the door. “Shit!”

            “What?” Usagi rushed to his side, pulling with all of her strength. “It’s not opening!” she cried, colour draining from her face.

            “They’re closed.”

            “What do you mean they’re closed?” she asked, voice quivering as a lump rose in her throat.

            “They’re not open,” Mamoru said, shaking his head, trying to remain collected. “Closed on Sundays.” He pointed to the sign, finger running back and forth along the appropriate line.

           Usagi’s head dropped, and she momentarily rested her forehead against the glass. Without warning, her shoulders began to quiver, and she burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

           “Why are you laughing?!” Mamoru asked, pitch raised and incredulity strewn across his face.

            “I’m sorry,” she managed, wrapping her arm around her stomach. “I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted. “And it _is_ kind of funny.”

            “Usagi, we’re _legally married_ ,” he reiterated; did she not realize the severity of their situation?

            “What, is the idea of being married to me that horrible?” she snapped, mood souring as she glared at him, hands on her hips.

            “That’s not what I’m saying.” Mamoru held his palms up in defense.

            “Then what are you saying?” she asked haughtily, weight shifting to one leg.

            “I just don’t think a drunken wedding in Vegas is how either of pictured getting married,” he explained. “And wouldn’t you rather marry someone that you actually liked?” he added, bracing himself for her rejection.

            Usagi’s heart softened, her posture relaxed, and it occurred to her that maybe he wasn’t as confident as he let on. “We had fun last night,” she said, wishing she had the courage to admit more.

            “We did, from what I remember of it.” While memories of the wedding were still lost to the alcoholic haze, Mamoru recalled much more of their night together than he let on. He could still feel the delicate graze of her fingertips on his skin, and the heat of her body pressed against his.

            “So what now?” Usagi rocked back on her heels, hands clasped and forehead crinkled.

            “I guess we’ll just have to come back in the morning. At least if they’re closed there’s little chance of the paperwork going anywhere,” Mamoru reasoned.

            “That’s true.” Her head bobbed.

            The pair began their trek back to the hotel, each drowning in a sea of empty words and hopeful what ifs. Their pace had slowed, and Usagi took the time to admire the lavish window dressings, pausing every few shops to peer inside. She admired jewel crested trinkets, and stylish clothes, imagination whisking her away. She felt him stop with her, waiting patiently behind as she finished her inspections, and she half wondered if the strangers passing by thought they were a couple.

           “Hey, Mamoru?” She looked up at him, heart racing.  “I’m supposed to meet the girls at the restaurant in the hotel for lunch, you can come, if you want,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching. “I mean, we _are_ still husband and wife.” She winked, earning a welcomed chuckle.

            “Sure,” he agreed, “I’d like that.”

            The rest of the walk was filled with Usagi chattering away, filling Mamoru in on everything she had seen since she first arrived. It was her first time in America, and the novelty of all of the differences hadn’t yet worn off. He smiled at her babblings, his mood lightening as he felt the panic of their marriage and stress from endless days of medical seminars beginning to dissipate. She always seemed to have that effect on him, even when they were younger.

            Reaching the restaurant, the couple weaved their way through crowded tables, finding their group at the back. They welcomed Mamoru with knowing smiles and feigned surprise as they subtly cast mischievous smiles to one another. Usagi downed a glass of water, before burying herself in the menu, using the flimsy paper to shield her reddening cheeks while Mamoru bided time making polite conversation about the weather.

            “Really?” Rei interrupted. “No one is going to talk about… this?” She wagged her finger between the couple.

            “Did you get the paperwork?” Minako asked, the question perched on her lips for quite some time.

            “The chapel was closed,” Mamoru stated, offering no further information.

            “On a Sunday?” Makoto cocked her head to the side.

            “Apparently.” Usagi nodded slightly, lips pulled into a straight line.

            “How did this marriage even happen?” Ami wondered, having felt that Minako’s explanation was less than complete.

            “Why don’t you ask the Maid of Honour?” Usagi suggested, casting a saccharine grin in the blonde’s direction.

            “I’ve already said I was sorry like a million times,” she huffed. “How was _I_ supposed to know a Vegas marriage is a real marriage?” She slouched back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest.

            “How did you not know?” Ami’s brow creased in confusion; there would have been legal documents to sign.

            “Have you never seen a Vegas movie?” Rei turned to her in shock, arms raised.

            “Please tell me you have evidence that it happened,” Makoto chimed, eyes glistening with excitement.

            “Please tell me you don’t,” Usagi snapped, that heavy feeling returning to the pit of her stomach.

            “Just a few photos on Snapchat,” Minako admitted, refusing to look in Mamoru’s direction; she knew he was seething.

            “Minako,” Usagi whined, having lost all ability to feel embarrassed or horrified.

            “And Instagram.”

            “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Mamoru groaned, burying his face in his hands.

            “And maybe, like, one or two on Facebook.” Minako flashed a guilty smile as the three remaining girls fished their phones from their purses and pockets. “I’ll just make another post saying it was a joke,” she added, words colliding into one, as if the speed of her promise would fix her mistake.

            “Oh yeah, here it is!” Rei called, proudly displaying their wedding photo on her screen. The device moved around the table, accompanied by a series of giggles.

            “You guys _do_ look pretty happy in the photo,” Makoto mused. For years she had secretly hoped that Usagi and Mamoru would get their acts together and confront their feelings; she was a sucker for a good love story.

            “How did you guys not see any of my updates?” The blonde frowned, taking a moment to look each of her friends in the eye. Makoto raised her shoulders in silent apology, and Ami avoided her gaze.

            “You update _a lot_ ,” Rei said, lightly patting her arm.

            “So, what will you do now?” Ami asked, head tilted to the side with genuine concern; she didn’t find the situation quite as amusing as the rest of her friends seemed to.

            “We’ll have to go again tomorrow, and see what they say.” Mamoru sighed and glanced at his phone screen for the first time since the event. His cheek twinged with irritation at the barrage of text messages, mostly from Motoki, which escalated by an increase in exclamation marks.

            “I still can’t believe you two got married in Vegas.” Makoto laughed, head swaying with disbelief as she unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap. Usagi snorted, and Mamoru rolled his eyes; it was obvious now that they would never live this down.

            “Sorry to interrupt, but did I hear married in Vegas?” the waitress asked, as she began to set down plates of food.

            “Yes!” Minako looked at the newlyweds, the corner of her lips turning upwards. “Our two _dear_ friends just tied the knot last night!” she cooed, pointing to Usagi and Mamoru. “She’s getting the ring resized,” she explained, noticing the waitress’ attention drop to Usagi’s hand.

            “Well congratulations!” she beamed. “Lunch is always on the house for newlyweds.” Usagi’s face lit up, her smile contagious as she glanced at Mamoru, and nodded approvingly.

            As soon as waitress had left, Minako leaned over the table. “See, I got you a free meal.”

            “Yes, that completely makes up for allowing us to get married,” Mamoru said, monotone and deadpan.

            “It _does_ kind of make it better,” Usagi managed between mouthfuls. “Who doesn’t love free food?”

 

            Meals devoured, and hunger satisfied, the six friends idled around the table waiting for their bill to arrive. The conversation died down, and the soft patter of Ami’s fingers drumming against the table become all too noticeable.

            “We have plenty of time,” Makoto reassured.

            “Makoto and I are going on a bus tour to the Hoover Dam.” Ami smiled, glancing at her watch.

            “It’s very interesting,” Mamoru replied, “I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

            “Well, _we’re_ going shopping,” Usagi chimed, pointing to her two remaining friends, unable to shake that tinge of jealousy that crept up the back of her neck at Mamoru’s enthusiasm.

            “Actually…” Minako bit her nail, a guilt painted on her face. “I ran into Adam, the guy from yesterday? Turns out he wasn’t feeling that great, so we’re hanging out again.” She shrugged, pulling strands of golden hair through her fingers.

            “And I’m going to chaperone,” Rei said, hand splayed across her chest. “Clearly Minako can’t be left alone,” she added, directing the comment towards the newlyweds.

            “So you guys are ditching me _again_?” Usagi frowned, shoulders slumping.

            “We didn’t _ditch_ you last night,” Rei corrected, pursing her lips. “You could have come  with us.”

           “You’re welcome to come on the tour with us!” Usagi crinkled her nose at Ami’s invitation – an _educational_ tour wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time.

            “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

            “I’m not doing anything, if you want to see how much we can milk this newlywed thing,” Mamoru offered, admitting to himself that he had enjoyed the past twelve hours with Usagi more than he had the entire conference. “I’m sure we can at least get a free dinner.”

           “Fine.” Usagi sighed, unable to resist the charming grin he flashed in her direction. “I’m in,” she agreed, trying to mask any sign of excitement.

 

            Usagi waved as her friends went their separate ways, leaving her along with Mamoru in the hotel foyer. She took a deep breath, and shook out her nerves before turning to face him.

            “So, what do you want to do first?” she wondered, pushing a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.

           “Well,” Mamoru said slowly, heart pounding as he weighed his options – finally convincing himself that he had little to lose. “If we’re going to convince people we’re married, we’ll need to get you a proper ring.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended on this story being two chapters, but it's going to be three.


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